


and all is right in the world

by 님 (nymmiah)



Series: dotharli [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Asphyxiation, Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Breathplay, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fighting Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Trans Female Character, Zenos yae Galvus being Zenos yae Galvus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/%EB%8B%98
Summary: She is ever-willing to play the role of a beast.Self-indulgent spinoff set after The Royal Menagerie.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Series: dotharli [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922356
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	and all is right in the world

**Author's Note:**

> Look. I was writing up ideas for Kore's story through SB and this one idea completely derailed from what I intend for her in SHB. Don't judge me.

The Scions should have known her better by now. There was naught more entrancing to her eye than a man with peerless might, of promised glory and war--and what man embodied that better than the Prince of Garlemald?

From that moment their blades locked in the Reach, she had been enraptured by the glint of his steel, the bulk of his shoulders and arms; he would be her worthiest opponent, malms greater than the gods she had slain.

And oh, how he had pushed her!

He had called her a beast, as she had hissed curses back at him, naming him everything possible under the sun. A beast he had been determined to make of her, and a beast she had indeed become.

He had left her twice over broken yet undefeated, urging her to rise to his challenge--and she had risen indeed, ascending to a level of might that proved equal to his own.

And mayhap even a might that would prove greater.

She had destroyed his castri, she had slain the Shinryu within which he had hidden himself, and now, she would take him.

Kore, voracious beast she, grinned fiercely even as they grappled upon the flowers of the Menagerie, swords abandoned to the side in favour of this:

The burn of their limbs as they fought, that carnal smell as flesh tore under nails and blood gushed from their wounds, and the swell of their souls now entwined in battle.

The wild look in Zenos' eyes bespoke of a similar sentiment. The man was not Dotharli, but how he revelled as she did!

How his spirit sung as she grabbed his shoulders and threw him aside! How her heart danced as he lashed at her ankle, intending on disabling her!

Could anything be more reverent than this?

Surely Nhaama watched her that day and took pleasure in their battle.

It would be sung for decades yet, this glorious war between Dotharl and Galvus, two titanic beasts going head to head. Each clash rang out with a sonorous gong, the clang of metal upon metal as her gauntleted forearms met his armour.

It was not in agony that she cried as his large fists grabbed her by her tail and hair and dragged her back.

She kicked and she screamed, clawed at his wrists, dirt and flowers sent heavensward from the force of her struggles--but it did aught.

Her back met his chest, and his thick arms came around her, locking her in place.

His breathing, heavy and winded, sounded in her ear.

"Very good, my beast," the prince murmured, words uncharacteristically unsteady.

This was not the time for words.

Kore continued to struggle, whipping her head back against his--and his hiss, the way he dropped her, bespoke of her true aim.

Whirling around, she could see that she had broken his nose, that it now streamed crimson with his blood. She grinned, reaching back to touch her hair.

It was matted in that same crimson.

"We are yet finished," she exclaimed, surging forth with her hands outstretched.

Though he had ample time to stop her, Zenos fell backwards, her hands planted around his neck and throttling him.

Laughter escaped his strained lips, though he had not the breath to spare for aught else. His eyes flashed bright as he stared up at her, his countenance becoming increasingly red with more than just the blood that spilled from his nose as she squeezed hard, and harder still.

Lovely did he look beneath her, this warrior in Garlean skin, his life steadily choked out beneath her.

He would suffocate if she continued to grasp so tightly at his neck. He seemed inclined to allow her, his hands not moving to pull her wrists.

Instead, they rested upon her thighs, remaining placid there.

"Would you accept death so easily?" She asked, fury suddenly alight within her breast.

Zenos' eyes flashed again, and his gauntlets dug into her thighs.

This could not be his end. She refused to allow him to die at her hand by aught other than one befitting a Dotharl; to die in the height of war, defiant to the last.

She released his neck, and watched how he choked and gasped. Spittle pooled out from his agape mouth, and she could see how her hands had left bruises upon his pale skin.

Leaning in, she grabbed him by his golden locks, forcing his head to the side. In the space she made, she leaned in.

She could smell the crushed flowers here in the crook of his shoulder, just as she could smell the decay and blood that emanated from his steel. It was heady, that deliciously carnal scent of power.

"I will not have you die a lamb beneath me, prince," she whispered into his ear, watching how the reddened skin of his throat trembled. "You will die a lion, triumphant in your mane of gold as I thrust my blade through your neck."

Hoarsely came his voice. "Such savagery becomes of you. Show me then, that death you promise me this day. Set me alight and dance before my pyre."

Kore smiled, and she leaned back. Where she sat straddled upon his chest, she could see all of him, the blood clotting upon his countenance, the scratches and dirt upon his armour that she had caused.

"Your life is mine," she declared. "I will not suffer you to die in any manner less than you deserve."

In the aftermath of her words, his eyes glowed red with Resonance, and his lips were parted with desire. "My beast," he murmured. "You would claim jurisdiction over mineself?"

 _Yes_ , she thought. _This is right._

She leaned over him, her hands planted upon the earth on either side of his head.

He was gold and crimson beneath her, and it was arresting in a manner she had never considered before. "You are mine and mine alone," she stated. "As I am your beast, so shall you be my feast."

She stopped him not as he surged forth, his lips finding hers. The taste of iron sparked across her tongue as he hungrily bit at her, his hands palming at her body roughly.

Goaded on by some unknown instinct, she too began to grab at him, her errant fingers digging under unknown crevices of his armour to find hidden latches. His pauldrons fell, as did his vambraces.

The metal of his gauntlets pulled at her shirt. In this, she was at a disadvantage. Her fragile Dotharli garb was ripped from her form, and she was left in naught upon his chest.

He looked up at her, eyes trailing over her form. Proudly did Nhaama's scales cover her skin, the ebony keratin covering the valley of her chest and her navel, grasping at her hips and thighs. Prouder still lay the scars of her fights throughout Doma and Gyr Abania, lacerations poorly healed bisecting her deep skin.

His eyes lingered upon her groin, but swiftly rose again to meet her stern gaze.

"Savage," the prince hissed, rolling them over so that her back was now pressed into the grass, his bulky form blotting out the sun above them. His hair hung over them, a golden curtain to block out Azim from viewing them.

Kore smirked up at him, and she reached out to grab his countenance to hold it within her palm. He bit at her fingers, at the flesh of her thumb even as he shed his own garb, working out of his armour faster than she could ever manage.

Beneath the steel and magitek, he remained twice her bulk, shoulders spanning a distance farther than her own.

Mayhap another woman would have been stricken by such a sight. He was gold and he was light against the sun, his neck adorned with the choker of her handprints and bruises--but she was Kore Dotharl, and not easily swayed by her eyes alone.

How scarless was his skin save for the bruises and the blood she had only just drawn from him!

Mayhap it could be taken as a sign that he was so skilled a warrior that he would bear no marks of battle. Nevertheless, he looked, in her eyes, as if as unblooded as a child.

Pristine and near-white as Nhaama's face, she trailed her eyes down his form, regarding his every ilm and found him wanting in every aspect except two:

His size and his girth.

Kore reached forth, her hand flush against his groin. He stirred beneath her palm, and softly did he groan, eyes fixed upon hers hungrily. She could take him, but only with no little amount of preparation; she had not the oil to do so, however.

"Second thoughts, my beast?" Asked the prince, but she thought not as she moved.

She could not take him yet within her loins, but she had yet another orifice to use. She grasped at his hips, and she pulled at him. So willingly did he follow her touch, crawling up her body until his thighs bracketed her head, and she could take him into her mouth.

She wrapped her lips around his cock, felt how he pulsed against her forked tongue when she pulled at his hips once more, forcing him deeper into her mouth.

Once more, he groaned, and she could see how his abdomen undulated in time with her suckling. In this, even this untouchable Garlean prince was only but a man, reduced to the act of rutting senselessly into whatever wet hole he could fit within.

Trembling and tremulous, he thrust forth into her mouth, as deep as his girth could go. The head of his cock brushed the back of her throat, and she tilted her head up, easing its passage deeper in.

His flesh was hot within and against her, and his gaze was just as searing.

She stared up at him as he fucked her mouth, crouched over her head with a hand braced against the flowers upon which they had fought.

His lips were parted, and his countenance bearing streaks of rusted red. His other hand lunged forth to grab her by one of her horns, pulling her forth and hilting himself within her throat.

She choked, unable to breathe with her nose flush against his groin. The grip upon her horn was tight, pulling hard at the black ivory to the point that she could hear it creak within her skull beneath his grip, threatening to shatter.

He released her not even as he spilled his seed in her throat, hot bitter fluid filling her throat.

He held her there, suffocating, tears pooling in her eyes--but she lingered there, halfway to unconsciousness.

Mayhap she could understand his former indolence, laying beneath her as she choked him; it was almost exquisite, this near-death, this gradual danger.

Only when her vision flickered black did she pound her fist against his hip, forcing him back such that she could gulp greedily at the air, his seed yet filling her mouth.

Above her, Zenos panted, his skin slick with sweat, his cock red and wet with her spit and his cum.

His bitterness pooled in her mouth, and she turned her head to spit his seed out onto the grass. Let it propagate, if he were even fertile, in these arid Gyr Abanian lands.

His hand had loosened around her horn. He shifted his touch, stroking along the calcified spikes. She could feel and hear the drag of his skin within her skull, an intimacy that had her shiver beneath him.

She grabbed at his wrist and pulled it from her horn, instead placing it within her hair.

"Again," Kore demanded. "Unless you're already spent?"

A smile had appeared upon Zenos' countenance, a frightening and unpracticed expression. His eyes were yet wide and red, and he pulled at her hair, pulling her out from beneath him.

Leashed by his grasp, she rose to her knees before him.

"Ah, but I have yet to partake in you, my beast," he murmured. His other hand moved to palm at her hip, his fingerspan broad enough that his thumb could stroke at her cock where it lay half-erect.

Kore shivered at his touch, and she lowered her eyes. "Do not touch me."

"Or what?" Zenos asked idly.

In defiance, he stroked her again, thumb pressing into the head of her cock.

She hissed, grabbing at his wrist and digging her claws into his forearm. His hand had tightened in her hair, forcing her chin up in an attempt to restrain her.

And once again, they fought.

She struggled against him, turning her head and biting down on his arm. He grabbed at her shoulders, forcing her down into the dirt upon her stomach. She bit down all the harder, tasting his blood upon her tongue, and she wrenched her head to the side in an attempt to tear his flesh out.

She could hear his delighted laughter, and his member pressed hard against her backside. He crushed her into the dirt with his greater bulk, and for all of her great strength, she could not shove him aside with his limbs wrapped around her thus.

His lips were pressed to her horn, and she could feel his voice vibrate into her skull, all the louder and all the more invasive. "You have had my cock in your mouth. Will you not let me put you in so vulnerable a position, my beast?"

She could not speak with his flesh in her mouth. It was for that reason alone that she released his arm, and felt no small amount of pride at the deepness of her bite, how it bled viciously onto the grass.

Kore bared her teeth, bloodied and red with his essence, and twisted her head in an attempt to look at him. His arm pressed all the harder between her shoulders, pressing her harder into the dirt beneath.

"I will bite it off if you try that again, boy," she replied.

She could feel Zenos huff against her skin. "Tempting me, I see."

She could feel his hand attempt to slip in between the earth and her stomach. Kore hissed, and she shifted what little she could beneath him, pressing her hips back. She could feel his cock throb against her spine, and with what leverage she had, she wrapped her tail around it.

His soft moan reverberated through her horn.

The Garlean rutted against her back, and where he thrust, her spit slickening her own skin.

"Is this how you take your pleasure?" He asked her. "Allowing me to fuck you with abandon and to touch you not, as if you were some flesh that were bought?"

Kore licked his blood from her lips, and she snarled into the dirt, "I would rather you split me in half than touch me like a man."

"Then so I shall."

Zenos' weight upon her back lifted, though his arm continued to rest across her shoulders, keeping her pinned. His arm, the one she had injured, moved where she could not see nor feel it.

She tensed, readying herself to throw him off of her--but his hand came not between her legs. His fingers instead came to rest upon her ass, spreading them apart enough that he could fit his cock against her.

She could feel how his blood, slick and hot, dripped onto her skin, and she wondered if he was degenerate enough to think it sufficient lubrication.

"Large as you are, I would not fit within," Zenos remarked. His hips slid forth, and he rut against her cleft unhurriedly. "Would you accept me nonetheless, Warrior?"

Kore snorted. "Not without oil."

She knew that Zenos stooped down, for she could feel how his hair settled across her back and the warmth of his breath puffed against her nape. "But of course. I am no savage."

"Nay, you are a beast as I am," Kore replied, and she gasped when his teeth sank into her flesh. His countenance, cradled against her neck, was warm.

"Far have I fallen, to have been brought to the level of my beast," Zenos continued to murmur into her neck, his words less of a loving coo and more the gravelly hiss of an avaricious creature. "Or mayhap--you have been elevated to that of my huntress."

She tensed at his words.

"Yes," he whispered quietly, unknowingly echoing thoughts she had just moments earlier. "This is right. My huntress, she who claims my life as her own."


End file.
